


rejuvenate and rediscover

by Flightstorm9



Category: Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bittersweet, COVID 19, Coronavirus, How Do I Tag, Inspired by Real Events, Mentions of social media, POV Second Person, Pandemic - Freeform, Real Life, Rediscovery, Slice of Life, and quarantine, effects of isolation, going outside after the pandemic, mostly happy though, writing this was very healing ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightstorm9/pseuds/Flightstorm9
Summary: You step outside into the green-blue-gold of the forest that is your backyard for the first time in what feels like forever, after the Covid-19 Pandemic and lockdown and everything about indoors, infections, inadequacy. You breathe in deep, and your lungs fill with the energy of sunlight on your skin, of the spring wind on your cheeks, of the sounds and sights and smells all around you - birds chirping, tree branches shivering, sun shining.You’ve missed this, you realise. You might have tried to fool yourself into sayingI’m an introvert anyways, it doesn’t matter, I like remote more anyways- but you’ve missed this. You’ve missed being whole.You’ve missed being free.
Kudos: 1





	rejuvenate and rediscover

You step outside into the green-blue-gold of the forest that is your backyard for the first time in what feels like forever, after the Covid-19 Pandemic and lockdown and everything about indoors, infections, inadequacy. You breathe in deep, and your lungs fill with the energy of sunlight on your skin, of the spring wind on your cheeks, of the sounds and sights and smells all around you - birds chirping, tree branches shivering, sun shining.

You’ve missed this, you realise. You might have tried to fool yourself into saying  _ I’m an introvert anyways, it doesn’t matter, I like remote more anyways -  _ but you’ve missed this. You’ve missed being whole.

You’ve missed being free.

The grass is damp and springy against your socks, and you pad out further as the wind hums alive around you. Everything out here is moving, the trees swaying in the wind, the leaves teeming with birds and other creatures, the world moving on while you were still inside. Wasting away, and the world moved on.

You’re kind of glad it did.

You aren’t sure if you would’ve appreciated it otherwise, if none of this had happened.

And those last few months were hard. You’d gotten laid off from your job, had worried over relatives at-risk, had holed yourself up at home and laid awake at night, squinting at blue-blaring screens while your eyes deteriorated and your muscles shrank and your belly bulged. You’ve  _ changed,  _ and this world hasn’t. 

And that’s terrifying.

But also… relieving, somehow.

You walk through the grass. There’s a small flower growing amongst a patch of weeds, and you can’t really tell what type it is, but it looks like a daisy of some sort. You don’t pick it, because you’re afraid it will die in your hands - you’re afraid you might start crying. You don’t want to cry, what if the neighbors see you?

(who cares about the neighbors? you haven’t seen them in months.)

A squirrel jumps up a nearby tree in a flurry of leaves and snapping branches, golden sunlight spilling off the quivering stems. The childish, impossible urge to chase after it fills you, and you’re tempted to climb up the tree after it, to rise up up up into the deep, gorgeous blue of above and just… stay there, for a while. The sky makes you dizzy when you stare into it for too long, moving and drifting and spinning all around, white puffs of cotton lazing through the azure and you feel so small. You feel so open. You feel so empty.

You feel so free, and you take a cleansing breath and sit down on the grass, the summertime coming. The birds twitter and chirp in the trees, and listening to them is so much better than doomscrolling on Twitter. A caterpillar inches across a stalk of grass near you, and you fight the impulse to reach out and touch it in reverence. It’s so simple, so small, so  _ dumb _ but it feels so amazing. So different.

The springtime breeze is so different from the controlled, still air of indoors, regulated by the AC and thermostat you order around. The catcalls, hoots, chirps, caws of the animals are all so different from the empty static echoing in your ears you hear inside. Ridiculously, you fight the urge to cry. You lay back on the grass and just breathe with it all, just lie there and smile stupidly and smile and _smile_ and wish you could stay there forever.

You have bills to pay, jobs to find, people to protect. Your life is one stress after the other and going back to it is like going back to a whirlwind that takes place inside your head and mind and heart, your walls too quiet and small and stifling compared to the big, bright, world out here. Closed-off, but you’re open, here, free and floating and you’re here. You’re home.

You stand up and go inside to get a drink of water. You’re starting to get thirsty, and you read an article the other day about the effects of dehydration, and how quarantine has made a lot of people forget to take care of themselves (admittedly, you’re probably one of them). The door swings open, stays open, the hinges creaking in the gentle wind, and you’re grinning so wide all your facial muscles hurt.

Maybe you’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> the other day i finally went outside for the first time ever since… honestly, i can’t even remember. Seriously, i think i’ve been indoors at least half a year by now, not counting doctor/dentist appointments, driving to grocery stores, etc. go outside if you can, people, preferably to an outside woodsy place. A backyard will do if you have one. Get some fresh air, take care of yourself, breathe. live a little.
> 
> have a good day, and thank you for reading <3


End file.
